


Obsession

by Shapooda



Category: Bleach
Genre: Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 01:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17234753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shapooda/pseuds/Shapooda
Summary: “Jaguars are obsessed with Calvin Klein’s Obsession perfume.”





	Obsession

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rori/gifts).



> Inspired by an informative post about jaguars by Trevoshere, and some chatter on the Grimmichi discord ~ Hope you like Agathe

 

 

 

 

**Kurosaki Ichigo**

\---xxx---

 

 

Christmas fell on a Wednesday that year.

 

Wednesday was reserved for studying, most days, and on days where he was ahead, he used it for other things, mainly self-indulgent things like keeping up his skills. Or rather, he attempted to. Usually it took a total of 2 bottles of sake before Yoruichi was in the mood to fuck around in the training room, and Kisuke just wasn’t that interested. 

 

There was one person in particular that got just as much joy out of it as he did, but that smug asshole operated on  _ his _ schedule and his alone. 

 

Although Ichigo couldn't help but notice he had slowly adapted to only showing up on Wednesday. But there was no apparent rhyme or reason to why he chose one week or month to show over another. 

 

If Ichigo wanted a round or two, what was he supposed to do, just hop on over to Hueco Mundo? He could if he wanted, he supposed, but Harribel scared the piss out of him, and he’d be the first to admit he didn’t want to be the one to ask permission to...to do what? Sparr with one of her arrancar...She would ask  _ why _ an arrancar and not a shinigami? Why get all up in  _ her _ business?

 

And he didn’t really want to answer that question.

 

He’d considered putting the blame on Neliel. He  _ did _ want to see her, but she was so busy with politics and helping Harribel maintain order, he never saw her. Ichigo assumed the reason he saw Grimmjow at all was because he was ordered to get the fuck out of the way and the big blue asshole was bored enough to come to him.

 

Yeah that’s right, he was nothing special, just the only one stupid enough to give the arrancar what he wanted.

 

Lazily swinging his leg off the edge of the bed, Ichigo closed his eyes, listening to the padding of feet in the living room below him. Thin fucking walls, he could hear just about everything in detail; the heavy, purposeful sound of his father’s footsteps, the soft and quick tempo of Yuzu’s feet, crossing back and forth in the kitchen. There was the muffled chatter of voices tinged with an anger Ichigo knew wasn’t genuine.

 

He opened his eyes, watching the lazy twirl of dust in orange afternoon sun, and felt restless. He always isolated himself when he felt this way, at least from his family. They didn’t deserve half-assed answers and thousand-mile stares.Truth be told, it was embarrassing, so he separated himself from it, and they left him his space.

 

He wondered about Grimmjow again, unsure why his day slipping by reminded him of an angry, psycho arrancar, but it did. 

 

Light refracted through his Christmas gift across his ceiling and far wall in an amber halo. Eyes slipping from the ceiling to his windowsill, Ichigo looked at the bottle of cologne Yuzu gave him. Although he suspected Karin  had a hand in it as well, judging from the tiny smirk on her face when he’d opened it.

 

It was a semi-serious gift, wrapped in a few jokes about grandkids and some laughter, but it was seated in some real truths. He didn’t date, he never had. He wasn’t stupid, he was aware of how courtship worked, but it just never  happened. His family was starting to worry, in their own ways; he spent most of his time alone, especially after the war.

 

He was lonely, he knew they could see it. Once Rukia was promoted, she was busy, most of his shinigami friends were. Inoue and Ishida were busy with school, same as him. Chad was getting deeper and deeper into boxing, and  they didn’t hang out like they used to. 

 

He was lonely and his family actually  _ noticed _ . How embarrassing.

 

Lifting the small oval bottle, Ichigo held it over him with a frown. It burned yellow in his hand, reminding him that Yuzu said she only got it because it was the same color as his hair. She didn’t even smell it apparently. Said it always smells different on men and she wasn’t about to test it. 

 

Thin, but strong letters were tastefully printed on the front in black.  _ “OBSESSION for men.”  _ At the bottom was the brand  _ “Calvin Klein.”  _

 

He’d worn cologne once, as a kid. No, that was wrong. It was perfume. It smelled nice, and he’d practically doused himself in it. While his mother found it cute, the other kids just laughed because he reeked like a girl. “Never again,” he’d thought. 

 

And here he was considering breaking that promise.

 

In all reality it was super stupid; he was an adult, adults wore cologne all the time. But Kurosaki Ichigo didn’t. If he suddenly did, people might notice. They might ask why.

 

Was he dating? Was he going to? Who was he trying to impress? 

 

A razor sharp smile invaded his thoughts, but he pushed them away. 

 

He abruptly sat up, pulling the lid off with a little metallic click. He leaned in to smell the top, tentatively holding it up to his nose, and smelled absolutely nothing. 

 

Great, he was going to have to commit.

 

Lifting the bottle to his wrist, he hesitated.

 

**“Fucking coward,”** Zangetsu drawled.

 

Startled, Ichigo hissed, “Did I ask you?” 

 

**“Are you actually** **_scared_ ** **of some smelly shit?”**

 

Ichigo considered that, and didn’t answer. “What if I hate it and I can’t get it off?”

 

**“You can’t be serious.”** Ichigo didn’t respond, and Zangetsu goaded,  **“Do it, you pussy.”**

 

“Shut up.”

 

**“Do it.”**

 

“MAYBE I WILL!”

 

That was louder than he intended, but his family didn’t react. They were used to it, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

 

Ichigo clenched his teeth, scowling down at the tiny amber bottle, and pushed down on the pump. It spritzed onto his wrist with a pathetic little hiss, droplets so fine it wasn’t even cold settling on his skin. He sucked it up and lifted his wrist to his nose and inhaled. 

 

It was more subtle than he expected, something bright and citrusy, but also sharp. He wasn’t a connoisseur of smells, but he liked it. Not that he had the guts to tell Yuzu.

 

But what the fuck was he going to do with it though? Smell nice at his part time job?

 

**“That’s it?”**

 

“What do you want me to do,  _ drink _ it?” Ichigo snapped.

 

**“Wear it, stupid.”**

 

“Are  _ you _ stupid?  _ I am, _ it’s on me; I smell it.”

 

**“Commit,”** Zangetsu growled, real annoyance in his tone.

 

“Why do you give a shit?”

 

**“Because you’re being a pussy about it.”**

 

And that made a lot of sense. If something scared him, Zangetsu wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it until he wasn’t scared of it anymore. And so Ichigo tried to recall where the fuck else he was supposed to put this shit, and realized the only real place left was his neck. 

 

Well, no one was going to get that close to him, so it should be  _ fine _ .

 

He lifted it to the underside of his jaw, worried his lip, and pushed down on the plunger. This time he smelled it, like spicy sunshine.

 

His phone buzzed, startling the ever loving fuck out of him. He fumbled with the cologne, caught it, and yanked out his phone, recognizing the ringtone. “Kisuke?”

 

“KUROSAKI-SAA~AAN!” Ichigo held the phone away and winced. “What do you want?”

 

A mock sound of indignation came from across the line. “I’m insulted. Perhaps I just called to wish you a Merry Christmas?”

 

“I can’t believe you even remembered it was Christmas,” Ichigo said. 

 

A dramatic gasp. “I’m wounded.”

 

Ichigo set the cologne back on the sill and asked, “So what do you want?”

 

“No small talk?” More indignation, but now it was more transparent. “I thought we were friends!”

 

“Kisuke, you never call me unless you want something.”

 

There was a tightly controlled sigh from the scientist and after a stubborn moment of silence, he relented. “Your arrancar is here, if you would kindly collect him and return him to Hueco Mundo.” The false cheer was strained now, which meant Kisuke was genuinely annoyed, and he’d never asked for help handling Grimmjow before.

 

“What?”  Ichigo said, “Why can’t you?”

 

“That takes time, and he’s being...difficult.”

 

Grimmjow was always difficult, so Ichigo wasn’t sure what he meant. “What’s he doing?”

 

“He’s drunk.”

 

Ichigo blinked at his empty room, not computing what he said, so he articulated hself the only way he knew how. “WHAT.”  Ichigo wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Grimmjow drink. He’d never seen him consume anything, if he was being honest.

 

“So if you would please come retrieve him.”

 

“Why  _ me _ ?”

 

“He’s  _ your _ friend.”

 

“Since when?” Ichigo argued.

 

“Since he only shows up to––Tessai,  _ please _ !––he only shows up to see  _ you _ .”

 

“Uhhh.” 

 

Ichigo struggled to find words, and Kisuke spoke as if he'd already agreed. “Sooner is better than later, Kurosaki-san.” And he hung up.

 

Ichigo pulled the phone back and frowned at it. That asshole hung up on him. 

 

“ **Sounds exciting. You should go.”**

 

“I have plans.”

 

A callus snort. “ **Doing what?** **_Dinner_ ** **?”**

 

“It's  _ Christmas _ !”

 

**“It's** **_Wednesday_ ** **.”**

 

“And also Christmas, you asshole.”

 

“ **The season of giving or some shit, right? Give me something to** **_do_ ** **, I'm dying of boredom.”**

 

“Suck it up.” Ichigo frowned at the phone again and started making excuses for himself. Kisuke never asked him for anything, and to be honest, he was curious.

 

Tapping his phone on his chin, he thought about it for another long minute, but he'd already made up his mind. Swinging his legs off the side of his bed he snatacbed a jacket from his desk chair and thumped downstairs. He shrugged it on, to a disappointed frown from both Yuzu and Karin, but he could feel Karin's scowl as she barked, “You're going out?”

 

“Yeah, it's sort of an emergency.” If it wasn't, he was going to be pissed off.

 

“Ichii-niii,” Yuzu whined, “You’re going to miss dinner!” Her lips turned down into a quivering frown, and Ichigo’s expression miraculously remained level, he was proud of himself for that. 

 

His father leaned back in his chair, frowning at him in accusation. “And what's so important you would miss my sweet angel's cooking?”

 

Ichigo grimaced, threading his hand through his hair. “Uhhh Kisuke asked...for help.”

 

Isshin's eyes narrowed in disbelief. “He asked for  _ help _ ?”

 

“With um…” Ichigo’s eyes darted over to Yuzu as he scrambled for the right word. The truth sounded bad, but he was a shitty liar. “A friend.”

 

“Yeah,” Ichigo said quickly. “So I'm going to run and take care of  _ that _ , and then come back.” That was the plan. It was a solid plan, but his father's glare still made him feel like he was somehow lying. 

 

He pulled Yuzu into a half hug, under the suspicious glare of his father, and kissed the top of her head. He pulled away. “And be back for leftovers and it’ll be like I never left.” 

 

There was a faint blush on her cheeks, watching him with wide eyes, and he realized, SHIT, she smelled the cologne. But she said nothing, she recovered fast and beamed. “Have fun Ichi-nii!”

 

Ichigo felt the blush creep across his own face and burn his ears. “Ahhh, I-I’m just. I’ll see you later.” 

 

He was out of the house and into the waning afternoon light before she could finishing calling goodbye. The  winter chill was exactly what he needed to cool off his blush. It was fine, it was just a misunderstanding, but the thought that she assumed he wore it to meet a date…

 

A raucous smile and bright blue hair flashed in his memory and his blush deepened. 

 

Nope, no, he wasn’t thinking about that. This wasn't a date, this was arrancar wrangling...it was different.

 

The walk to Urahara’s felt longer than usual with how desperately he wanted to be there. Oh he could have sprinted, but that felt exceedingly stupid and childish. No, Ichigo, play it cool. What’s the hurry?

 

Grimmjow was  _ drunk _ .

 

Worrying his lower lip, Ichigo stamped out the urge to run. He’d get there when he got there. Walking, like an adult.

 

And it was an agonizing walk, he barely noticed the streets he walked, and the lengthening shadows swallowing the sidewalk.

 

He stopped just outside Urahara’s when he stepped into a bubble of some sort, a thin layer of power tingling across his skin as he stepped inside. He shrugged it off and kept walking, noticing why that was there  in the first place. Grimmjow’s reiatsu was everywhere, not in a oppressive way, but with the same sticky residue of the aftermath of a fight.

 

“Get OFF ME!” 

 

That definitely sounded like Grimm.

 

Stepping up to the front of the shop, Ichigo let himself in, kicking off his shoes, and turned the corner to... _ something _ . Grimmjow was on the floor facedown, arms strapped to his sides with some sort of kidou, with Tessai hovering nearby, and Ginta perched between Grimmjow’s shoulder blades. 

 

Ginta’s head snapped around so quickly Ichigo felt a shock of concern for his neck. “Thank GOD.”

 

Kisuke pushed away from the doorframe and into Ichigo’s line of sight, Grimmjow’s sword held in his hand. He handed Pantera to him and said, “Please take Jaegerjaques home.”

 

Ichigo hesitantly reached for Pantera and took it, feeling awkward holding his rivals sword. “What am I looking at?”  

 

Grimmjow awkwardly twisted on the floor, craning his neck back, and Ichigo stiffened in shock. He eyes looked glassy and wet, like he was either close to crying or deeply considering it. “Is that Kurosaki? HEY!”

 

“Hey?” Ichigo responded, uncertain how to respond to that.

 

Grimmjow kept wiggling and trying to free himself, and Ichigo pointed out. “I can’t take him home if he can’t walk.” Frowning at Grimmjow wiggling on the floor, he glared at Kisuke. “Why didn’t you cut him off?”

 

“HE ONLY HAD A LITTLE,” Ginta roared. Grimmjow bucked and Ginta flattened him with a foot square between the shoulders.

 

“ _ This _ is a  _ little _ ?!” Ichigo shot back.

 

Grimmjow moaned from the floor. “I can hear you, you asshole!”

 

Ichigo sighed and said, “Get off him, let him up.”

 

Ginta paled and said, “Do you have any idea how hard it was to catch him?”

 

Kisuke flipped open his fan and said, “That's Kurosaki-san's problem now. Tessai.”

 

Ichigo's eyes widened. “Wai-”

 

The Kidou wrapping Grimmjow's arms to his sides flickered out and he lunged, throwing Ginta off his back into Tessai. 

 

Ichigo was ready for him, dodging a careless punch with ease. He caught Grimmjow's wrist, using his momentum to twist his arm around between his shoulders. “Owww,” Grimmjow whined.

 

Ichigo held him there and scowled at Ginta. “You call  _ this _ fast?”

 

“Hey,  _ asshole _ ,” Ginta spat, “not all of us are  _ you _ .” 

 

Ichigo gave Grimmjow a small shove. “You heard him, walk, move, go.”

 

The arrancar writhed in his grip, but stopped when it became clear Ichigo wasn't letting go. “Shut the fuck up and fight me, Kurosaki.”

 

Ichigo frowned at the back of his head and glanced back at Kisuke, wondering what the proper courtesy was, given the situation. “Sorry he was a nuisance.”

 

“Don't ignore me, you asshole!”

 

“Jaegerjaquez can return when he's sober,” Kisuke said. His tone picked up in cheer and he added, “Tell your family Merry Christmas!”

 

Ichigo frowned and gave Grimmjow another shove, leading him out the front gate and through the shield. “I'm not fighting you, this is just pathetic.”

 

“ _ You're _ pathetic!”

 

“Very clever,” Ichigo said dryly. “Make a garganta.”

 

Grimmjow sagged in his grip, giving his arms a half-hearted tug. “Can't.”

 

Ichigo raised a brow. “What? Why?”

 

Grimmjow shuffled, tugging his arm again. “Drunk. Lemme go.”

 

“You gonna punch me again?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

Ichigo rolled his eyes and let him go.

 

“It's Wednesday,” Grimmjow said.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You weren't here.”

 

Ichigo looked at him, wondering if it was the dark, or the drunken wobble in his voice and the slouch of his shoulders, but he looked pitiful. 

 

Shoving his hand in his pockets, Ichigo threw his head back and sighed. The cold drew his breath away in a cloud, and he made up his mind. “Got anywhere else to go?”

 

Grimmjow scowled at him, eyes narrowed in annoyance, but they were glassy, almost defensive. “Said I can't make a garganta.”

 

Nodding, Ichigo started walking. “Come on.”

 

Grimmjow watched him for a few places, then trailed after him. “Where?”

 

“You sleep it off and we'll fight all you want,” Ichigo said, exasperated.

 

“ _ Where _ ?”

 

“My house.”

 

Grimmjow snarled, “You’d bring your  _ enemy _ into your house?”

 

Ichigo could practically see the sneer on his face. He huffed and said, “A house where my father is a captain, my sister regularly curbstomps hollows to death, and I'm going to be watching your every move.”

 

The arrancar didn't have much to say after that, and Ichigo should hope not, it was as good as a threat. Hoisting Pantera, he tossed it back to Grimm, and thankfully the arrancar wasn’t so drunk he couldn’t catch his own sword. His hand snapped up and caught it, giving Ichigo a curious look, and he slipped it back into place at his side. 

 

He didn’t draw it, he didn’t appear to have any intention of using it, despite his slurred demand for a fight. Somehow Ichigo knew that.

 

They walked together in silence, then the wind shifted, a gust blow straight through Ichigo’s jacket, inciting a small shiver. Grimmjow froze, stopping short in an alley. “Kurosaki...what _ the fuck _ is that?”

 

Ichigo paused and turned, “Excuse…” Grimmjow was suddenly inches from his face, “me?” 

 

The arrancar's pupils were blown wide, getting a solid grip on the front of his jacket. He leaned in and inhaled, his nose flush to his jaw.

 

Panicking, Ichigo took a swift step backwards, lifting his palm to his neck, a furious blush on his face. “What are you doing?”

 

Grimmjow slurred, “You smell  _ nice _ .”

 

Zangetsu laughed in his head. “ **You should have put on more.** ”

 

_ What _ .

 

Grimmjow stalked forward, until Ichigo's back hit the wall. Ichigo cast a nervous look down both ends of the alley, but the streets were empty. He looked back only to find Grimmjow was  _ close _ . Too close. “Never smelled this good before. What the fuck, Kurosaki.”

 

Swallowing, Ichigo leaned back against the wall, inadvertently baring his throat. “Okay, so what? Back off.”

 

The arrancar didn't feel inclined to listen, leaning in to rub his cheek along the side of his throat. He made a sound like a growl, something not entirely human. It vibrated against his throat and sent a shiver up his spine. His voice was low-had it always been that low? “If you wanted me to stop, you'd make me.”

 

Ichigo lifted his hands to his arms, but didn't push him away. That shiver went straight into his gut and settled. “I'm not sure that's how assault works, but  _ okay _ .” 

 

“ **_Assault_ ** ,” Zangetsu laughed.

 

_ Glad you're amused _ .

 

Grimmjow exhaled across his throat, hot, his breath tickling his skin and lighting his nerves on fire. 

 

“ _ Grimmjow _ .”

 

Something hot and wet rasped a line along the tense muscles of his throat and Ichigo stiffened in panic, digging his fingers into Grimmjow's arms. “What are you doing?”

 

“Tasting,” he rumbled.

 

Ichigo pushed and stepped into hirenkyaku, putting a ‘safe’ distance between them. His heart was pounding, his hand lifting to the side of his throat, unsure if he wanted to erase that sensation, or cherish it.

 

Grimmjow leaned back from the wall, licking his lips like a sated lion. “What's that? A Quincy technique?” 

 

Lifting a tentative hand to his throat, Ichigo prodded  damp skin and called back. “Ishida taught me.”

 

“You've been holding out on me, Kurosaki.”

 

Grimmjow faced him, his eyes black from where he stood at the end of the alley. 

 

Ichigo licked his lips and said, “The invitation isn't rescinded.”

 

“Big word Kurosaki,” he mocked. He laughed, hands looped on his belt, and widened his stance with  all the grace of a sleepwalker. “You gonna run again?”

 

“I moved, I didn't run.”

 

Grimmjow's mouth stretched into a smug smile, baring sharp teeth, and looked distinctly like the hunter he was. “Yeah, okay.”

 

“Relax,” Ichigo ordered. Although he wasn't sure what exactly he was telling him to do. The arrancar scoffed, but the tension remained the same. Ichigo ground his teeth and rolled his head. “Let's go.”

 

Grimmjow didn't linger or argue, he followed at a distance that made Ichigo anxious. He felt his eyes on his back, roaming and studying in a way he'd never felt before. It wasn't like they had quiet moments outside of a battle, this was...new. 

 

They reached the glow of the house and he stopped, turning around and jabbing a finger in his face. “Don't even look at Yuzu and Karin.”

 

He practically went cross eyed to stare at his finger, scowling past it to Ichigo. “Gross, you think I'm into little girls?”

 

Ichigo let his hand fall with a sharp. “You're an  _ arrancar _ .”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Don't shake their hand, don't even  _ smile _ at them.”

 

“Cold, Kurosaki.” Grimmjow snarked, a less than friendly smile on his face. “You treat all your dates like criminals?”

 

Ichigo whirled in exasperation and flung the door open in a long, loud announcement. “I have a guest, ignore him, don't you dare be nice to him, I'm going to my room.”

 

Yuzu twisted on the couch to look hanging over the edge. “Ahhh another shinigami?”

 

Grimmjow stepped into his house, eyes giving the kitchen and living room an appraising once over, then settled on Yuzu. A wicked smile crossed his face and he corrected, “Arrancar, kiddo.”

 

Ichigo got a grip on his jacket, nearly dragging the drunken arrancar off his feet. 

 

His father called after him. “Make good choices, son!”

 

Grimmjow miraculously didn’t fight him on the suddenly long trek to his room. He threw Grimmjow in like a bouncer tossing a rowdy drunk and shut the door, throwing his back against it with a sigh. He realized a second too late he’d just closed himself in a room with an arrancar suddenly leagues too interested in him.

 

His room was dark, the sun long since hidden behind the rows of houses and trees. Grimmjow was silhouetted by his window and the indigo of a darkening night sky. He couldn’t see his expression, and he wasn’t sure why that made him nervous. 

 

“Nice family.” Ichigo listened for some sort of insult or sarcasm, but he heard none. Grimmjow’s tone was rough, lacking that anger and disparity he’d come to expect.

 

Ichigo swallowed, suddenly feeling trapped in his own room. Flipping on the light now felt wrong; this wasn’t something Grimmjow wanted him to see. “Why are you drunk, Grimmjow?”

 

“Accident,” Grimmjow said stiffly.

 

“Bullshit.”

 

Ichigo watched Grimmjow shift his weight, then cross over to the door, slamming his hand down on the wood beside his head. It rattled in the frame, loud enough to make Ichigo flinch. This close, the glitter of Grimmjow’s eyes was  visible, despite the deepening gloom, the clear blue of his eyes overshadowed by widening pupils. “If you break that, you’re fixing it,” Ichigo said.

 

“Never told me why the fuck you smell so good,” Grimmjow said, his eyes roaming like there was some answer he might uncover.

 

“You’re changing the subject,” Ichigo warned.

 

The arrancar ignored him, leaning in close, close, too close. His nose and forehead pressed to his throat again, and Ichigo’s heart hammered, his thoughts stuttering to a halt. Grimmjow rubbed against his throat, the nape of his neck bristling in either fear or a thrill, Ichigo couldn’t decide. Without the chill of winter, the contact was hot, nearly too hot, Grimmjow’s breath like fire across his collarbone. 

 

_ He’s drunk, that’s it, that’s all it is. He’s just a...passionate drunk. _

 

“Like oranges, and sunshine,” Grimmjow rumbled. 

 

The deep growl of his voice against his neck  _ did things _ to him, and he wasn’t entirely sure Grimmjow was aware that he was doing them. “ _ Grimmjow _ ,” he spoke, tense. “What are you doing?”

 

“Didn’t think you were stupid,” Grimmjow answered, his hand suddenly on his chest,  pushing him back against the door hard enough to knock the door against the threshold. 

 

Ichigo grabbed him  by the shoulders and steered him back, catching him around the middle with he tripped. Great news for him, he hauled him off his feet with  a grunt and a disgruntled wail from Grimmjow, and flung him back on the bed. He caught the glint of moonlight off the bottle on his windowsill and lunged for it, shoving it in his face. “It’s THIS! It’s this, alright.”

 

Grimmjow blinked up at him, wide eyed and dazed. “Goddammit, Kurosaki, do you want me to throw up!” His eyes focused on the bottle in front of his face. “And the fuck would that be?”

 

Ichigo blushed, “Cologne, smells nice.”

 

“The fuck’s it for?”

 

Ichigo’s blush deepened.  “To smell nice,  _ obviously _ .”

 

“Okay...why would you wanna smell nice?”

 

Ichigo ground his teeth, uncertain if Grimmjow was being intentionally dense. He snapped off the lid and leaned over Grimmjow, grabbed a pillow, and sprayed the thing, like a tiny sneeze. He hurled it into Grimmjow’s face. 

 

“OOMF-” Grimmjow tore it off and snarled, “THE FUCK?!”

 

“Hump that and sleep it off.”

 

Ichigo yanked the other pillow out from under Grimm, the arrancar’s head banging off the metal frame without a ringing bang. “Ow! Fucker!”

 

Ichigo internally winced. Oops. “I’m taking the floor.” He  slammed the bottle of cologne down on his desk and grabbed a blanket from the closet. He flopped back on the floor in his clothes, not about to undress in front of a handsy arrancar.

 

Grimmjow just  _ watched _ , weirdly quiet. Even after he laid down with his back to him, Ichigo felt the arrancar’s eyes on him. It felt like hours passed like that, but it must have only been minutes. Ichigo bit back a startled yelp when a pillow hit him in the back of the head. He whipped his head around, but Grimmjow’s back was already to him. The arrancar’s shoulders fell with what looked like a sigh.

 

_ Did I hurt his feelings? _

 

Zangetsu snorted. “ **Didn’t know that special talent extended to arrancar.** ” 

 

Ichigo frowned at Grimmjow’s back, trying to decide what to say, but to his shock, Grimmjow spoke first. “Got drunk cause I got lonely. Ain’t that why all you humans drink? Or is that some special human privilege?”

 

Brows creasing, Ichigo rolled over to his back, staring at Grimmjow’s shoulders. “Drinking?”

 

Grimmjow muttered, voice bitter as he repeated himself. “Didn’t think you were so stupid.”

 

Zangetsu took pity on him and gave him a mental nudge. “ **Koneko asked Kisuke to call you, aibou.** ”

 

Ichigo’s eyes widened. 

 

_ Oh _ .

 

“Did you ask Kisuke to call me?”

 

“ **_Smooth_ ** ,” Zangetsu said dryly.

 

Grimmjow’s posture stiffened, and Ichigo realized how tense he really was. “I asked about you, so what? I ask about you all the time.”

 

“To fight,”  Ichigo finished. But Grimmjow said nothing.

 

Ichigo worried his lip, and looked at the pillow that had nailed them both in the head. He picked it up, kneading it a little, and threw it back, this time with less force. It smushed up against the back of Grimmjow’s head, but the arrancar’s insult died in his throat when he turned to find Ichigo sitting on the edge of the bed.

 

“Scoot over,” Ichigo said, “I changed my mind.”

 

“What if I changed  _ my _ mind,” Grimmjow said.

 

“You can’t change your mind, it’s  _ my _ bed.”

 

“Not talking about the bed,” Grimmjow growled.

 

Zangetsu hissed. “ **_Ouch_ ** **. You gonna take that, aibou?** ”

 

_ Shut up. _

 

Ichigo shoved Grimmjow with a hand between his shoulder blades. “Move.”

 

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes  and muttered a few insults, but scoot over––taking the pillow with him, Ichigo noted.

 

Ichigo threw his own pillow down, lying down beside him. He kept staring at his back, feeling his chance to speak slipping through his fingers. “You freaked me out.”

 

Grimmjow snorted. “Noticed.”

 

“No, asshole, you  _ freaked me out _ .” Ichigo grit his teeth, curling his hand into a fist, but he resisted punching him in the kidney. “No one’s ever come onto me before, you dick.”

 

Grimmjow looked back, his pupils catching the moonlight in an eerie flash. He stared at him, an unblinking alley cat, then rolled over to face him, suddenly almost nose to nose. “Liar, not with a face like that.”

 

“I’m not lying!” Ichigo leaned back a touch, far more aware of their proximity now that those eyes were locked on his again. Even glassy with alcohol, they were sharp, watchful. He licked his lips and defended himself. “I was sort of busy.”

 

“Uh huh,” Grimmjow said, but his eyes were on his lips.

 

“Grimm-” And then he was kissing him. Grimmjow was  _ kissing him _ . Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to think of reasons to refuse. No, that wasn’t right. He thought of reasons, but he just didn’t give a shit, none of them seemed important. 

 

Ichigo’s hand found itself tangled in blue hair, yanking him closer. Why was he doing that? God, he didn’t care––his lips were soft and hot and they  _ fit,  _ clumsy and needy, but they fit. 

 

In the back of his thoughts, Zangetsu growled, urging him to go on, snarling at him. Ichigo’s lips parted, and Grimmjow’s tongue was past his teeth, in his mouth, fighting to dominate that kiss. His mask scraped his cheek, rough and intrusive, but it only served to remind him just who it was he was kissing. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, but it make Ichigo groan, squeezing his hand in Grimmjow’s hair, holding him closer, tighter.

 

He tasted bitter, sharp like the metal edge of a weapon. Ichigo wanted more, and Grimmjow’s knee was over his leg, his hand on his ribs, holding him painfully hard, his fingers digging along his ribs. It hurt, but it was so distinctly Grimmjow, it wasn’t something he thought he’d ever feel from anyone else. 

 

Shifting his weight, Ichigo reached out with his other hand for Grimmjow’s chest, his palm pressing flat against warm skin and the cold edge of a zipper. Fumbling with it, Ichigo tugged it down, exposing more of his chest. He shoved on Grimmjow’s shoulder, rolling him to his back. He managed to keep their kiss going, even if they clashed teeth. It was potentially the only reason Grimmjow let him lie on top of him. 

 

Ichigo leaned into their kiss, taking the lead before his fears shut him down.

 

Sacrificing his grip on Grimmjow’s hair, Ichigo held himself up, his free hand sliding under his shirt. His fingers traced over the rough edge of a scar;  _ his _ scar. He idly followed the edge lower, until Grimmjow caught his hand, stopping him short, his grip painful enough that Ichigo stopped. 

 

They panted, inches away, and Ichigo tried to read the hurt and anger on Grimmjow’s face.  “Gotta lot of mixed feelings about that,  _ shinigami _ .”

 

Ichigo flinched at the insult, but held his ground, refusing to break eye contact. “I’m not a shinigami.” From the look  on Grimmjow’s face, that answer warranted a lot of mixed feelings too. Not eager to unpack a bunch of baggage with a buzzed arrancar, Ichigo changed the subject. “You stole my first kiss.”

 

Grimmjow snorted. “You think I ever kissed anyone before?”

 

Ichigo blushed. “But you were...so…”

 

“Say it.”

 

“Uh...forward,” Ichigo finished lamely.

 

“You’re just a dumb fucker,” Grimmjow growled. “You touched me first.”

 

Ichigo blinked down at him. “What?” 

 

“You fixed my hair.” Grimmjow grit his teeth and growled, “You started it.”

 

Ichigo thought back and...remembered. Blue hair falling into his eyes, his skin bright with sweat. He hadn’t even  thought about what he was doing, he just reached out, threading his fingers through his hair, and pushed it back. And Grimmjow let him.

 

Zangetsu said,  **“You’re an unintentional flirt. And a fucking heartbreaker.”**

 

Ichigo repeated dumbly. “Started it…”

 

Grimmjow pushed at his shoulder. “Forget it, I’m going to sleep.”

 

“Wait, I’m-” Ichigo started, reaching to keep him in place. 

 

Grimmjow cut him off, flipping their positions on the bed. Grimmjow’s hand was around his throat, tight, but not suffocating. “Did you forget you were in your human body?”

 

Ichigo was breathing hard, nervous, but he wasn’t scared. “Yes,” he admitted.

 

“So you’re weak,” Grimmjow growled.

 

“Temporary,” Ichigo said. He reached up for Grimmjow’s wrist, his touch gentle. The arrancar had an angry streak, about things that seemed trite, but Ichigo knew there was more, and Grimmjow wouldn’t tell him. He wasn’t like that. “You won’t hurt me like this.”

 

“Can you really be so confident?” 

 

Grimmjow’s grip tightened, nearly cutting off his air, and Ichigo’s response was raspy. “Yes.” Now he knew what Grimmjow wanted; he was testing him. Why? He really could only guess, but he knew he wouldn’t kill him, he wouldn’t hurt him, not like this.

 

Grimmjow glared down at him, but his anger collapsed along with his grip before Ichigo’s head could ache. His hand was loose around his throat, and Ichigo left it there. Reaching up for Grimmjow, Ichigo trailed his fingers over his sides, and when Grimmjow didn’t stop him, he wrapped his arms around him. “I’m not scared of you.”

 

“Stupid asshole,” Grimmjow interjected.

 

“So you shouldn’t be scared of me,” Ichigo said.

 

Grimmjow clamped his jaws shut, his silence more telling than any answer. Ichigo tugged him down to his chest, rolling them both so they were side by side. His head was against his chest, his arm crushed between them, and Grimmjow didn’t push him away. His hollow hole was an oddly open space between them, but not necessarily uncomfortable. “Now go to sleep,” Ichigo said, “you dick.”

 

It took a long minute, but Grimmjow held him back, his arms wrapping around him and holding him tight. Ichigo’s  confidence was a charade, and it was the reassurance he needed to let an anxious breath go.

 

Grimmjow wrapped strong arms around him, holding him like he might disappear, and Ichigo pretended not to notice. He wasn’t sure he’d ever understand loneliness like that, and he didn’t want to. So he gave Grimmjow his time, listening to the steadying rise and fall of his breath, the hiss and slide of his constricting embrace against the fabric of the comforter. 

 

He smelled like Hueco Mundo. Cold wind, and sand and the night, bittersweet and heartless. It wasn’t the full truth, Grimmjow wasn’t heartless, no matter how much he towed the line. He was violent and angry, but undeserving of the hate and anger he so badly craved to see. 

 

Eventually, Grimmjow asked, “Why’d you wanna smell nice?”

 

Ichigo blushed. “For you, I think.” He felt Grimmjow listening, and he wasn’t sure how to respond, but it felt like he owed him a response. “I...I just thought I’d try it, and you’re the only person I ever see. You came to mind, I guess...I just didn’t think you’d––I didn’t know if...uh.”

 

Grimmjow said nothing for so long, Ichigo started to get nervous.  _ More _ nervous.

 

Grimmjow said, “You know, that stuff doesn’t just sit on you and smell the same on you as anyone else. Smells like you, and just...more of you.”

 

Ichigo’s face flushed red, looking up, but Grimmjow flattened him to his chest. “You like how I smell?”

 

“Were you not listening?” Grimmjow growled.

 

“I thought…”

 

“I meant  _ you _ , stupid, not just that stuff.” Grimmjow shifted, and added quietly. “I wouldn’t mind if you wore it again. Shit smells nice.”

 

Ichigo processed that  for a moment, then started to laugh, shoulders shaking in Grimmjow’s arms.

 

“The fuck? Are you––Why are you laughing?”

 

“Cause I was worried about nothing,” Ichigo said, “I feel stupid.”

 

“Well, you  _ are _ stupid; should feel like coming home,” Grimmjow muttered.

 

Ichigo laughed harder and let it all go with a sigh. He really was oblivious.  _ Nervous _ , and he was the one that started it. “Now go to sleep.”

 

“I’m not drunk anymore.”

 

“Maybe _ I  _ wanna sleep,” Ichigo said. “So shut up and don’t move.”

 

“Demanding little shit,” Grimmjow muttered. Yet he listened, and he didn’t move.

 

“G’night, asshole.” Ichigo was met with a huff, and a brief tightening of Grimmjow’s embrace. He could get used to that.

  
  


\---xxx---

 


End file.
